


St. Jame's Park

by Elril_Silverstar



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 22:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elril_Silverstar/pseuds/Elril_Silverstar
Summary: “Oh heavens blessings it’s them again!.” Beelzebub hissed, pushing Gabriel into a copse of trees nearly causing him to fall into the lake in the process.“Careful! My shoes will be ruined!” Gabriel snapped, using a small miracle to avoid splashing into the lake.





	St. Jame's Park

St. James Park: 1862. 

“Oh heavens blessings it’s _ them again!. _” Beelzebub hissed, pushing Gabriel into a copse of trees nearly causing him to fall into the lake in the process. 

“Careful! My shoes will be ruined!” Gabriel snapped, using a small miracle to avoid splashing into the lake. 

“Oh bugger your shoes, _ angel _ they’ll see us!” 

“So? If they see us then we’ll also have seen them.” 

Beelzebub only glared at Gabriel and pushed him against a tree, arm outstretched from their body. Literally holding the archangel at arms’ length.

Gabriel quieted his breathing as they both watched Crowley and Aziraphale’s conversation. They weren’t close enough to hear the words spoken, only the general tone of the exchange. 

“Oh, they’ve had a falling out…” Gabriel breathed, sounding crestfallen as they watched Aziraphale throw something into the water and storm away. 

Beelzebub only rolled their eyes in return, choosing to remain silent as they watched the two go their separate ways. 

Gabriel placed a hand over the one Beelzebub was using to hold him in place. 

“Are you going to keep holding me against this tree? Or…? I think you’ve wrinkled my suit.” He complained, but there was no malice behind the words. 

“Right.” Beelzebub snatched their hand back as if it had been burned. 

“Your hand is very warm. It almost burns actually.” Gabriel massaged the center of his chest where their hand had been.

“I am the Lord of Hell.” Beelzebub snapped back. “You on the other hand feel cold as ice.” 

This was not strictly true. It _ was _true that the feel of Gabriel under their fingers was like a thousand tiny needles digging into their hand. However Gabriel’s energy was far from cold, the holy energy burned so hot under his skin that it was like sticking their hand into a vat of liquid nitrogen. The slightest disturbance and they would shatter. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on writing for the Ineffable Bureaucracy tag, and this (among other) ficlits happened.


End file.
